


orihime

by zanykingmentality



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Stargazing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, i went camping a few weeks ago and this is the result, mc is named seonmi, yoosung is a cheeseball and also thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: “This,” he says, “is what we’re here to see.”There’s a part of Yoosung that sees her in this dim lighting, jokingly defiant gaze fixed on the sky, and he wants to press his mouth against hers and taste the stardust on her lips.





	orihime

**Author's Note:**

> rubs hands together i went on a class camping trip in september and i couldn't stop thinking about the stars so this happened. the stars in nature are _beautiful._
> 
> as usual, unbeta-d, but spellchecked. enjoy!

 

The sand is warm between their toes. With every step more grains cling to their skin, until their feet are coated in a layer of pale seashore. The smell of salt-water mingles with the air.

 

Yoosung takes a deep breath and watches the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. The sky already has traces of night, where the horizon melts into sky overhead. He pulls at her hand, already laced with his, and points up to the heavens with their joined fingers.

 

“This,” he says, “is what we’re here to see.”

 

“I can’t wait,” she says, soft smile pulling at her lips.

 

They walk the length of the beach. It’s colder now than it was earlier, but the back of Yoosung’s neck is still itching with heat. There are moments when rocks hidden in the sand jab into his feet, and he yelps out loud. Five minutes later he's still apologizing for acting weak when it happens again. And again. And again. To the point where Seonmi won't stop laughing, won’t stop cutely bringing the back of her hand up to her lips in a laugh that's so characteristic of her and always makes him blush.

 

“Let's just sit down here,” Yoosung grumps jokingly. She laughs at him again and drags him down into the sand by their entwined fingers.

 

(It gets in his clothes, but that’s alright.)

 

_(Maybe he’ll get the chance to take them off.)_

 

The air still tastes like the smoke wafting from the fire, orange-glow spreading through a slowly-dimming campsite. It’s quickly getting darker, though; stars are beginning to poke out in the edges of the sky. Seonmi’s eyes shine with blatant fascination as she stares at the stars popping up, sky darkening. She leans her head on Yoosung’s shoulder; every touch makes Yoosung feel warmer and warmer, heat burning through his skin, through his chest, to his heart. He presses his lips to the crown of her head and breathes in, the smell of wood-fire and smoke ever-present in this moment.

 

A breathy sigh passes from Seonmi’s lips; it’s a sound that makes the summer warmth feel searing, makes Yoosung’s face go cherry-red. Seonmi is heat and warmth and comfort. She is everything Yoosung could have ever wanted.

 

“Look at the sky,” he says, finally. The stars are out, twinkling in that ethereal way that only stars can shine. There’s millions of them, bubbling from the dark sky, popping into view. Even in the dark he can see Seonmi’s lips, slightly chapped, parted in wonder at the sheer number of _stars_ they can see. Yoosung points to the Big Dipper, the ladle, the bear. “Ursa Major.” Seonmi’s eyes follow his finger into the depths of the sky, a slow smile pulling at her lips.

 

“The greater bear,” she says in response. Amethyst eyes dart quickly to her, pale in the moonlight; he squeezes their clasped hands, a signal that she got it right.

 

Yoosung holds his other hand up, aligning it with the stars. One eye flutters shut as he focuses, charting stars in his mind. The brightest star in the sky, orange against the navy blue of night, pulls at his focus. “Do you see… that one?”

 

She follows his finger with her eyes. “That bright one?”

 

“Yeah.” Yoosung glances over at her again, starlight flickering on her cheeks. “The star’s called Vega. It’s part of the constellation of Lyra.” He traces it out with his fingertip against the sky. “It’s part of the Summer Triangle.”

 

“Illuminati confirmed?” Seonmi quips, grin widening in a manner that almost reminds Yoosung of Seven. He groans, but a hint of a smile flickers on his lips. He’d never admit it, but he has a weakness for dumb jokes of that caliber. He shakes his head and releases his grip on her hand in favor of lacing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her flush against his side.

 

“Don’t be like that~!” he whines. “Come on, look at the stars with me.”

 

“I _am_ ,” Seonmi responds, pointedly fixing her gaze to the twinkling heavens above. There’s a part of Yoosung that sees her in this dim lighting, jokingly defiant gaze fixed on the sky, and he wants to press his mouth against hers and taste the stardust on her lips. He swallows down the urges and thoughts, setting them to the side of his focus.

 

“There’s a legend,” he says quickly. “About Vega and another star in the Summer Triangle. Altair.” Her attention flits back to him.

 

“Do tell,” she says. This joking lilt to her voice is not doing anything for Yoosung’s focus, and he almost forgets what he was about to say.

 

“It’s a Chinese myth about two lovers,” he starts. “Well, it’s also in Japan. There’s a festival for it. The story is essentially the same.” The Japanese gave the lovers names, Orihime and Hikoboshi, but sometimes the story is better without having to remember the names. “In some versions, the girl is a goddess, but the boy is always a shepherd. They have a relationship, but in every version of the story, the parents disapprove.”

 

A frown twitches at Seonmi’s lips. “Why did they disapprove?”

 

Yoosung leans back on his palms and feels the sand gathering around his fingertips, lingering on his palms. “I guess it depends, but mostly because they weren’t getting their work done.”

 

“Tragic,” Seonmi comments. Yoosung knows her to be a hard worker, someone who prioritizes doing well over most other aspects of life; he can pick apart the sarcasm in one word easier than grabbing a chip out of a family-sized bag. Still, there’s something _other_ in her voice, something Yoosung doesn’t yet know how to identify, because they haven’t crossed this in conversation, yet.

 

“Yeah.” There’s a tiny ball of anxiety writhing in his stomach, but he stamps on it with measured breathing until it’s almost nonexistent. “Well, the parents separated the two. They were put on opposite sides of a lake, never allowed to interact again. The lake―” he points to the space between the two stars, where clusters of stars join in a line, “―is the Milky Way.”

 

“So they never meet again?”

 

“Not necessarily.” Yoosung smiles softly. “Once a year, there’s a bridge of magpies over the lake, and they can meet each other. Still, once a year.”

 

Seonmi is silent for a long moment, her eyes tracing Yoosung’s face, his arms, the folds of his clothes. Her gaze is near scrutinizing; Yoosung feels the heat of her eyes across his torso and suddenly it’s too hot and the only thing that could ever help is _her_ , her touch and her lips parted minutely. “That would be agonizing,” she decides, finally.

 

“Honey! I can’t even imagine not seeing you for a year!” Yoosung throws his arms around her shoulders, and she breathes a laugh against the curve of his throat. Her skin is searing on his, and yet, it’s soothing in the way that only a chill can be.

 

(A shiver runs down his spine every time she fixes him with that _look._ That eyes half-lidded, lips pulled in an almost-smile, heart thundering under her ribs _look_.)

 

“You’d survive,” she says, humorous lilt lacing the timbre of her song-speak.

 

Yoosung presses a hand to his heart, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Never,” he responds earnestly. It’s enough to make Seonmi burst into laughter again. “Hey! Don’t laugh! It’s true!”

 

“You’re a dork,” she says.

 

“Are you sure about that?” Yoosung’s voice gets lower. _Damn_ , he’s trying too hard to be seductive right now but he can’t _help_ it. He must be doing _something_ right, though, because Seonmi’s cheeks flare bright pink.

 

“Why don’t you show me?” Oh, god. She’s a lot better at this whole _flirting_ thing than Yoosung is, because now his face is too hot and he’s leaning forward before he’s conscious of what he’s doing, and suddenly his lips are on hers and it’s _burning_ against his skin.

 

If Yoosung got a choice in what his afterlife would be, it would go like this: he wakes up. Seonmi is there, and she smiles at him. One of his hands reaches up and cups her face and he brings her closer, closer, closer, until he’s not sure where his lips end and hers begin.

 

But now there’s this, and it’s close enough that Yoosung can’t tell if he’s been dead this whole time and this is his heaven, or if it’s real and _she’s_ real and she _loves_ him. Seonmi cards her fingers through his hair, breaths warm against his skin. Yoosung’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her as close as he possibly can, because now is for _them_ , and he will never lose her.

 

The stars tell stories of love. Well, so do people, but the stars are romanticized in a way that makes them even more beautiful, a twinkling backdrop for so many people like Yoosung and Seonmi, who come here to get away from everything and spend time together, alone. When Yoosung was little he would stare up at the night sky and the few stars he could see and he’d dream about floating in space with the light of the stars shining on his face as they danced around him, chiming a soft melody. It was a surreal dream, and no doubt one that would never come true, but now ― he remembers it now, pressing scorching kisses against lips that are his to kiss. The light of the brightest star warms his skin and when his eyelashes flutter open, brushing her cheeks, she is blinding and brilliant and _his._

 

It’s only when she breathes a tiny noise into his mouth that he realizes he’s been pushing, _hard_. It’s a sound he wants to loop over and over, hear again and again, until her voice is raw and sore and raspy.

 

When he pulls back he rests his forehead against hers. Her every exhale ghosts against his lips, breaths laced with a faint whisper of her voice. Yoosung can swear he sees stardust on her cheeks, twinkling at him with a cheery glow.

 

“I love you,” he says, suddenly. “Seonmi. I love you.”

 

Her eyes flit up to his, tawny hazel meeting bright amethyst, and she smiles up at him in a way that steals his breath once again.

 

“I love you too, Yoosung.”

 

Tonight is a night for the stars, a night for the heavens, and a night for love. The chirp of a magpie whistles through the night. Yoosung looks up and breathes in the air of salt-water and ocean and everything beautiful. Tonight, _they_ are beautiful.


End file.
